


Pushing Up Daisies

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [10]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22352080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “Something ends,” said Dandelion.“Something begins,” Yarpen Zigrin finished.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 22
Kudos: 277





	Pushing Up Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> At some point, I want to go back and write some stuff that takes place during the series (the Hansa, Toussant, Dandelion in Brokilon forest, etc), but for now, I’m skipping right to the last book for ANGST purposes. And because I need to actually FINISH the books. 
> 
> Spoilers for the end of _Lady of the Lake_ (aka the last book).
> 
> Ya’ll been warned. 
> 
> The summary is a direct quote from the book.

Dandelion sat on the edge of the shore long after the boat, carrying the body of his best friend, was long out of sight. He couldn’t move, not even as Yarpen tried to talk to him.

All he could think of was Geralt’s blood-soaked clothing, of how Geralt held his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Of how Geralt had charged into the fray protect them all, and died in the process. And then, to add insult to injury, he’d taken Yennefer with him instead of Dandelion.

Perhaps the Poet should be glad he wasn’t dead, that was what humans strived for, after all, wasn’t it? To live and thrive, to continue on, to succeed.

But he was aware he wasn’t not thriving, he’d never been good at that, not unless someone - usually, Geralt - was there to take care of him. He wiped his tears, ignoring Zoltan who was trying to talk to him.

“Dandelion-“

“Go away,” he said bitterly. “I’ve no interest in speaking with you.”

Finally they - Triss and Zoltan - got him off his feet, dragging him back to an inn where he was offered food and wine. He declined the food but accepted the wine.

“Play for us, Dandelion,” Triss pleaded, trying to hand him his lute.

“No, thank you,” replied the troubadour.

He went to his room in the inn that night and sat in thought. He sat through the next day as well, and the next night. He drank little and ate less, only picking at what Zoltan brought him.

Four days after Geralt’s death, Triss stood in his doorway and asked, “Have you at least taken your medication?”

“Shit.” It was the first time he’d spoken in days, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

The sorceress sighed and squeezed her eyes closed. “Dandelion-”

He allowed her to take him to her home, but refused offers of comfort. Instead, he made her lock him in the room he’d once slept with Geralt in, and spent a week screaming for help, for release.

Then he stood up, walked out, took his lute, and didn’t once look back.


End file.
